


Evil Angels

by emmadilla



Series: Kinktober 2018 [31]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Fantasized necrophilia, Knife Kink, Knife Play, M/M, Masochism, Not real BDSM, Please don't use this as a guide, S&M, Sadism, Serial Killers, These characters are fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadilla/pseuds/emmadilla
Summary: In a moment of reprieve, Thomas and Victor find a release with each other





	Evil Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober day 31 prompt: Blood play, Knife play, S&M
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This is NOT a guide to BDSM, DO NOT use anything you read here in a real life situation. Keep in mind these are two serial killers, they are not in some romanticised relationship. If you're interested in knife play or S&M, please look elsewhere for healthy examples on how to pursue that, this is not what you want to read for that. This is fiction only, in the strictest sense.

The harsh metallic tang of blood in the air filled Thomas’ nostrils, causing him to pause and breathe in deeply. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and the barest of smiles tugged at his lips. The sharp moan of the man strapped to the table beneath him only added to the ambiance and he wanted to just _savour_ the moment … scalpel in his hand, blood smeared everywhere, his dick enveloped in tight, white heat. Fuck, there was nothing better than this, nothing better than these trysts that he and Victor indulged in. Well, perhaps one thing might be, but Thomas put Bruce Wayne out of his mind, intent on not ruining the moment. He got so little reprieve these days as it was, no need to let Bruce intrude on this private moment of his.

 

Zsasz, however, was getting impatient with Thomas’ reluctance to move, and he growled, “Are ya just gonna stand there all night? Or are ya gonna fuck me?”

 

Thomas opened his eyes and the smile on his face grew, wicked and wild. “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, Victor. We have all night.” But the words did spur him to action, testing the waters with some slow strokes, making sure there was enough lubrication that ensure it was comfortable enough. Of course, the blood that ran out of the fine slits on Victor’s stomach and thighs lent a hand as well, and Thomas couldn’t help himself as he lowered the blade once more, carving a thin line directly down the bound man’s chest.

 

Victor hissed at the sting, closing his eyes as a moan quickly followed, feeding his arousal even more. He didn’t like adding scars that didn’t represent kills on his body, but Thomas’ scalpels were sharper than anything he’d ever seen, and the scratches left in their wake healed over so completely he couldn’t even tell there’d been anything there to begin with. Maybe it was crazy trusting Thomas Elliot like this, enough for Victor to allow himself to be bound and summarily fucked, not to mention toyed with. But, for the two crazy villains, they had just enough hate and disdain for the masked vigilante that it fed them and kept them on an even keel, trusting each other enough that they wouldn’t kill each other, not until after the Bat was taken care of. That, and whenever Thomas acted on his obsession with Bruce Wayne. Victor couldn’t understand it, but he didn’t want to, didn’t care it. It didn’t matter to him, just as it didn’t matter to Thomas that Victor preyed on the victims he chose. But in their madness, they found some sort of solace with each other, a physical release if nothing else, and that was about all they could hope for, really, so they were damn sure going to take it.

 

They both watched as Thomas smeared the blood across Victor’s body, painting him like a kindergarten art project. It fed into their lust, their arousal even more, and Thomas started to speed up. Victor clicked his jaw, the pain and the pleasure and the arousal at the sight of blood making him rock hard and sending him to new heights of pleasure. The doctor chuckled, commenting casually, as if they were having a normal conversation, “You should let me check that for you when we’re done.”

 

Zsasz snorted. “No thank you.”

 

“What? Trust me enough to fuck you, not enough to treat you? For shame, Victor. Have it your way. If your jaw locks, don’t come running to me.” His tone was so relaxed and nonchalant, it seemed to clash with the situation, with how hard he was starting to fuck Victor. And, truth be told, the serial killer considered taking him up on his offer. But for now, the dick in his ass and the scalpel in Thomas’ hand were the only things he wanted to focus on, and when Thomas lowered the knife once more, his eyes slitted in ecstasy.

 

Bright red ran down his side as the knife grazed his ribs, cutting so expertly that Zsasz was jealous of the skill. The sharp sting only added to the sensation, the smear of crimson pushing their arousal further and further. Thomas was always careful to not cut anywhere that would put Victor at risk of bleeding out, and never so deep as to cause actual damage. It was the skills he’d learned from his doctor days that stuck with him, made Zsasz envious of the higher educated his partner possessed. It would have been tempting, going to medical school, becoming a surgeon. But Victor wasn’t exactly the schoolboy type, and he wasn’t really interesting in learning much. He just wanted to hurt, to maim, to kill. To play around with people until he got tired and disposed of them. This, their brand of fucking, it allowed them to tap into that part of themselves in a safer environment, away from any risk of infection or retaliation by an unwilling victim. Their somewhat chance encounter had paid off in spades for both of them.

 

Gathering blood on his hand. Thomas wrapped it around Victor’s painfully erect cock, stroking it as he pounded into the serial killer, cutting more and more angry red streaks into Victor’s body as he did so. He was starting to lose it, starting to come undone, his motions still precise but harsher, desperate. It had been weeks, months since they’d last had a rendezvous, seemingly years since they’d been able to work off this kind of steam. Sweat poured down Thomas’ face, soaking his dark bangs and dripping into his eyes. He set the scalpel down for just a moment, needing to rid his eyes of the stinging fluid, managing to smear some of Victor’s blood on his face as he did so.

 

Zsasz sucked in a breath to see his blood on Thomas’ face. It made the young doctor even more appealing to him, more attractive, if he was the kind of person to consider those things. Sometimes at Arkham, he wanted to pretend he was normal, that he was capable to feeling emotions like the rest of society, but he just wasn’t. It was all a lie for Victor, a front, a mask he wore to slip past his victim’s defences and strike when they least expected it. Once Batman was vanquished and Bruce Wayne and his empire were toppled, Zsasz harboured one last fantasy: to kill Thomas Elliot. It probably wouldn’t make sense to other people, but Victor itched to carve the doctor up, bleed him dry, maybe fuck his corpse. He liked to think that Thomas would understand, though perhaps not enough to offer himself up willingly like that. Oh no, Victor didn’t dare dream of that, not in his wildest fantasies. But a little crushed up pill in one of Thomas’ post-sex tumbler of brandy and it would be easy to overtake him, restrain him, fulfill every sick fantasy that had passed through Victor’s mind since he’d met Thomas. Sure, he moaned and his hips jerked and Thomas thought that his motions were what was getting him off, but truth be told, every time he came, he was imagining Thomas’ corpse, dead by his hands and his alone. He hadn’t been able to come any other way since they’d started fucking. And he didn’t want to.

 

As Thomas continued to slash and cut at Victor’s body, he imaged doing the same to the doctor. Maybe he would wait until he was drained dry to fuck him, maybe he would fuck him as he was dying … yeah, maybe that was best. Watch the fear and the knowledge of his impending death register in his eyes as he struggled to breath and stay conscious under the onslaught of Zsasz’s knife and his dick. Oh, it would be so delicious, so much so it took every ounce of self-control to not prematurely act on his desires. After all, Batman was quite the foe, and rogue’s gallery needed every man they could get. And so he would wait, would bide his time until the day he could finally fulfill this one last fantasy of his. And oh what a day that would be.

 

Thomas jerked as he came, furiously tugging Victor’s dick, facilitating his partner’s release. Just that wild look in his eye, the blood on his hands, and the thought of Victor’s hands around his neck as he slowly asphyxiated drove Zsasz over the edge, his come mixing with blood on his chest, painting a perfect portrait of whatever it was they shared. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t even affection. It was some base need and desire mixed with a mutual understanding. They weren’t meant to have more in this life, and neither even cared.

 

After taking a few deep breaths, Thomas withdrew, releasing the automated restraints on Victor’s body before wandering over to a table sitting on the side of the room. Tucking himself into his pants, he didn’t even bother to wash the blood off his hands as he reached for his pre-poured glass of brandy, savouring the taste and the slight buzz it added to his post-climax body. Victor climbed off the table, almost collapsing for a moment as his feet had gone numb without him realising it. Sitting back on the table, he rubbed the life back into them with one hand as he used a nearby towel to press down on his wounds with the other. After some basic cleaning and bandaging, they would be well-healed quickly, and in the meantime, the soreness and the stinging would only serve as a reminder of their time together, and of their eventual end. Victor sneered at the doctor behind his back. _One day, Elliot. One day_.


End file.
